


The Now or Never Kind

by somewhereelse



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 19:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: High school AU. Oliver and Felicity are Starling City High’s most inexplicable yet inseparable friends. That is, until Felicity earns the opportunity of a lifetime, and Oliver realizes he missed the day they learned about sharing in kindergarten.





	The Now or Never Kind

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I started watching The Voice this season. My brain saw that kid who was an outsider at his sports-oriented high school, and spiraled to “What if s/he had one BFF (who’s secretly in love with them and has always recognized their genius) and now they’re killing it on national television and the BFF is horrified at the idea of sharing/being left behind?”  
> 2\. This season really was just uninspiring and lackluster.  
> 3\. Did I pull the title from a 2001 song that is forever tied to high school graduation? You betcha.

Oliver turned away from the projector screen in the school gym. His reaction didn’t make sense. Not when the rest of the gym, surprisingly crowded, broke out in cheers. Sara in particular could be heard over the others, even with Laurel trying to shush her.

Tonight was the live semifinals of the breakout game show, _The Brain_. To everyone’s surprise, the show swept the nation by storm. No one, not even the network execs, expected a dressed-up trivia show starring the brightest teenage minds in the country would captivate audiences like it did. Apparently, people desperately desired some good, clean fun and reassurance that the next generation wasn’t completely doomed.

High school seniors, plucked from schools all over the country, entered into an academic gauntlet. They needed to prove their mettle to be chosen and mentored by one of the “professors”. Once the professors selected their teams, the students were subjected to challenges, sometimes working together as the whole team, sometimes in pairs, and sometimes individually. Each week, the lowest scoring student from each team was thanked for their contribution and dismissed—test audiences had reacted poorly to the term “failed”—while the rest survived to geek it out another day.

Separating it from similar shows like _Jeopardy!_ or _Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?_ were the cameras’ intrusions into the contestants’ personal lives. The producers decided on seniors, but more specifically those eighteen and older who didn't require chaperones, so they could shove them all in a house together and broadcast the drama. For anyone who didn’t think there was a hierarchy among the traditionally lowest level of the high school food chain, they were quickly proven wrong.

Passive-aggressive needling, physical fights, and star-crossed romance abounded, and audiences everywhere ate it up. Including, of all places, Starling City. Then again, one of its darling children was poised to run away with the entire thing.

Mr. Diggle, the AP Government teacher, had submitted Felicity Smoak for consideration when he received the email seeking “gifted” seniors. His star pupil, bound for MIT and even greater things beyond that, had been an obvious choice, but he hadn’t expected it to actually go anywhere. Not until Felicity stormed into his classroom one lunch period, demanding to know what insanity he’d “voluntold” her for this time. The last time, it had been assigning her to tutor Oliver Queen, and that seemed to have resulted in an inseparable friendship, so he wasn’t entirely sure what she was complaining about.

Felicity didn’t even want to accept the interview invitation. Not until one of her scholarships fell through, and she was stuck in a bind. Mr. Diggle hated seeing her capitulate to something she hadn’t really wanted to do, but she was refusing any financial help she hadn’t earned of her own merit, meaning money from the Queen family. So she packed for a weekend in Los Angeles, positive she wouldn’t be selected for a team, and had been gone for over two months now.

Oliver scoffed audibly at the cheers of his fellow classmates. They hadn’t cared one bit about Felicity when she was _physically_ at their school, but the moment she got on national television, they suddenly formed a fanclub. Some of his ex-girlfriends were the worst offenders, going from openly hostile towards their friendship to gushing about what a great girl she was in a desperate bid for fifteen minutes of Twitter fame.

“Can you imagine,” Felicity joked her last weekend at home, “if they did one of those segments where they cut back to the high school, and instead of a full gymnasium, it’s just you and Tommy and Sara and Laurel and Mr. Diggle?”

In her first three months at Starling City High, Felicity had been pretty invisible, entirely by her own design. She downplayed her looks, never spoke up in class, and made it a point to stay out of the way of the popular crowd. To be honest, it worked. Oliver could barely remember seeing Felicity around before she was pointed out to him.

Then, Mr. Diggle assigned her to tutor the _most_ popular boy in school in... everything. Oliver needed help with pretty much everything. He wasn’t sure when it happened or how, but one day, Felicity was teaching him about geometry, and the next, his day was incomplete if he hadn’t talked to her.

For all intents and purposes, Oliver adopted Felicity into his friend circle, although she only truly enjoyed spending time with Tommy, Sara and Laurel. He found himself with a best friend who could talk circles around him, had an IQ out of the stratosphere, and convinced him to join her in Boston. They were even planning on living together, in some utopian, to-be-discovered apartment equally convenient for her at MIT and him at Harvard.

(If it came down to it, he fully intended on lying to her about the split cost of the apartment to avoid living in a dump. Not because he had “more money than common sense” as she was fond of saying, but because he was being _pragmatic_. He had more money than could be responsibly spent, and she needed money to fund her ambitions, her very worthwhile, bound-to-be-world-changing ambitions. She was an _investment_.)

Yet despite her stepping into the most popular and exclusive clique, the school was still happy to ignore her, just as Felicity was happy to be ignored. The popular crowd, especially, had no idea what to do with someone who blended into the background so seamlessly. Except blame her for whenever Oliver got bored and dumped his cheerleader girlfriends.

It’s why Felicity hadn’t expected much when she left Starling for LA. Donna had been proud, of course, happy that her daughter’s genius was finally being appreciated and that Felicity could focus on academics without worrying about bills or after-school jobs for awhile. But the rest of Starling barely realized she existed.

Still, Starling City was more known for being the murder capital of the US than anything else so the influx of good press was welcome. They embraced Felicity’s sudden stardom with hashtags and t-shirts and even billboards. In Felicity’s words, the red-headed stepchild was having the last laugh.

And Starling wasn’t the only place where Felicity’s sudden fame was being embraced. Social media and internet comment sections were full of guys offering to bang the cute blonde, even if she was a nerd. Every day, Oliver was more enraged by guys simultaneously demeaning and attempting to shoot their shot with his best friend.

“Ollie, where you going? It’s the last round!” Tommy called out, waving him into the gym. He didn’t even realize he’d wandered outside. The sight of Tommy in a t-shirt with a string of binary code translating to “smartest of them all” and #smoakem underneath—a design of Sara’s creation since Felicity was _adamant_ that her face not appear on any merchandise—made him grin a bit before he trudged back inside.

And found his face taking up the entire screen.

Shit, he forgot about that. A tradition of the show was to solicit messages of support from family and friends back home and trot them out throughout the season. Obviously, they tried to select points in the competition when contestants were feeling overemotional or at the height of suspense. Like right before launching into the last round of the semifinals where they were about to eliminate half the competition, until only one contestant from each of the four teams remained.

“Hey Felicity!” Oliver was out of focus until he shifted back, grinning into the camera. “Uh, your mom was supposed to do this message but she says she’s too emotional and would just cry the entire time. So you’re stuck with me instead. I just want to say that I— _We_ miss you and we’re so proud of you. You’re remarkable, and I can’t believe the world is finally getting to see that. Bring it home. You’re going to smoke ’em.”

The camera cut away from him to show Felicity in the viewing room with the other contestants. She was wiping tears from under her eyes and looking annoyed that she’d been tearing up in the first place and that the cameras would pick it up. There were rumblings from the other seven semifinalists, and the producers let it play out. Obviously, they sensed some drama coming, or maybe they just needed more time to set up the stage.

“Who was that?” one girl—Brie?—questioned, and Oliver had been alive long enough to recognize the interest in her voice.

So had Felicity because she glared at her competitor before clearly being prompted to answer the question. “That was my best friend from home.”

“Is he single?” was the immediate follow up, and the guys in the group groaned.

“ _Seriously?_ Isn’t there something else you should focus on? Maybe, I don't know, winning this scholarship?” The disbelieving questions came from Brie’s teammate, looking at her in confusion, like he just realized she was a girl with hormones.

“Hey, school isn’t everything. I’d hit it.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. She always hated when people—girls, especially—reduced him to his good looks or family money. And it always confused him because even Oliver could admit that those were the main things he had going for himself.

The host, Dr. Harry Wells, a scientist best known for goofy yet educational videos they watched in elementary school, interrupted to say something corny about Felicity’s encouragement from home and to lead them back onto the stage. As they filed out of the room, waving to the camera, someone muttered, “If _that’s_ her best friend, Ray doesn’t stand a chance.”

Oliver scowled at the reminder of Felicity’s last remaining teammate. Palmer was tall and gangly and, despite being a huge nerd, not completely unfortunate looking. From the looks of the last few weeks, he was also nursing a massive crush on Felicity. Who looked like she was crushing right back. Then again, she’d always been kind and patient and helpful, the very reason she could stand to tutor Oliver’s incompetent ass. So there was always the possibility that it was the producers and editing making it look like Felicity reciprocated Palmer’s feelings.

Oliver just didn’t know which was the truth.

What he did know was that watching their flirtation play out on live television when he had no way of talking to Felicity, aside from a pre-recorded video he made weeks ago, was giving him heartburn at the ripe, old age of eighteen. His newfound jealousy was really proving inconvenient. Especially when it was really only new to _him_.

As his grumpiness progressed with each week Felicity was gone, everyone around him—Tommy, Laurel, Sara, Mr. Diggle, his parents, Donna, even eight-year-old Thea—had a similar reaction. Mainly: “Oh, _now_ you get it.” So the more put-out he got, the more everyone else gloated and speculated about what, if anything, would happen when Felicity got home.

His plan, not that he was sharing it with anyone, was to ask Felicity out. No, not just out, but to be his girlfriend. It was a risky move since Felicity never showed an interest in dating before. Whenever Sara prodded her, Felicity would say that she wasn’t going to waste her time on some stupid, immature high school relationship that wouldn’t make it past the first semester of college anyway. She always pointedly looked at him after, and he always shrugged carelessly because she wasn’t wrong about his “relationships” so far.

But it was riskier to not ask at all. What if she _liked_ this Palmer guy? He was someone who shared her interests and had an IQ to (almost) match hers. _Palmer_ wasn’t stupid or immature. And even if she didn’t like Palmer specifically, once she got to MIT, the campus would be overrun with guys just like Palmer, who’d be worth her time.

That’s why Oliver needed to ask her as soon as she got home. Like when they went to pick her up at the airport. Or was that too public and over-the-top?

His train of thought was broken by Mr. Diggle loudly shushing the gym. The camera panned back from Felicity to show her standing with the other contestants. He recognized the set up as the elimination because somehow he’d spaced out on the last round and the commercial break to calculate the scores, which was really just to create suspense.

Oliver’s stomach dropped when Felicity reached for Palmer’s hand as Dr. Wells called on Professor Stein to reveal the finalist. He almost threw up when, despite Felicity advancing to the finale, she surged into Palmer’s arms for a long, long hug.

What if he was already too late?

 

* * *

 

Felicity rubbed her palms nervously on her jeans. After Ray’s elimination last week, leaving her the last student standing on Professor Stein’s team, she hadn’t had a friend around to share her nerves with. Everyone was rightfully focused on the grand prize.

After years of being on her own, Felicity thought she’d be used to the loneliness, but Starling City had changed her. Now there was Sara and Tommy and, most importantly, Oliver. God, did she miss them even after only a few months away.

Good thing she and Oliver planned on going to college together, sort of, because she now knew for certain that she couldn’t live without him around. Hopefully, her absence had convinced him of something similar. If her being gone had just reminded Oliver of how much better, or more fun, his life had been before they became friends, Felicity would be devastated.

His message last week was unexpected, the surprise welcome even if it meant she didn’t get to see her mom. But there was no telling when that message had been recorded or if Oliver had just done it as a favor to Donna. The guy didn’t care one iota about being responsible or ambitious or motivated, but if a pretty female, no matter what her age, didn’t think he was charming and solicitous, then the world was ending.

And Felicity herself wasn’t completely immune to that charm. Just seeing his stupidly handsome face and dumb floppy hair for the first time in months sent her heart racing. Hopefully, the cameras hadn’t picked up on that reaction. Too aware of the eyes on her, she couldn’t even completely process and cherish Oliver’s message before it was over, and Brie was making some aggravating comment.

Stupid Brie. Felicity didn’t mean that literally, the girl was her main competition and archnemesis after all. After the first week when Felicity thoroughly trounced everyone and made it clear that she wasn’t there as eye candy—man, if the popular girls of Starling CIty High could see her labelled as the _pretty_ one (well, she guessed they would see that since TV)—Brie started targeting her with snide remarks and petty comments. Felicity always tried her hardest to not respond. She didn’t want the producers using it as some catty, girl-fight storyline or her future professors/employers to see her stooping so low.

Donna Smoak may not have helped her with calculus homework, but she did teach Felicity to kill them with kindness. Emphasis on _kill_.

Of course, Brie found Oliver hot—what straight teenage girl didn’t?—but she didn’t have to offer to “hit it” on nationally broadcasted, live television. If any nerd was going to score with Oliver, _Felicity_ was going to be first in line. Not that they ever went anywhere near that line.

She had always made it clear that school came first, and Oliver had never shown the slightest bit of interest in her. Still, Felicity could daydream and continued to, even when faced with an actual prospect for a boyfriend. Ray looked like a Disney prince and, despite his sometimes overbearing intensity, they had a lot of common interests. Felicity had never had someone to geek out with before. It was nice and, once Ray awkwardly expressed an interest in dating, it could have been  _nicer_. Yet something within her held back, unwilling to take that step with Ray, and if she was being honest with herself, that _something_? Was a stubborn, undying shred of hope, holding out for her best friend.

But she couldn’t focus on that emotional dumpster fire right now. Not with a full ride on the line. Everyone left could use the money, but they all, fortunately for them, came from two-income families and had college savings. With Ray—single mom and twin brother—eliminated, she was the only one who _needed_ the money. The producers had latched onto that quickly, using it as part of her storyline throughout the season.

Felicity hated it. She knew how fortunate she was to have a supportive mother, even with how clueless, annoying and out-of-touch she could be, and solid friends, quality over quantity in that respect. She didn’t need the entire nation seeing her as a charity case. But this is what she signed up for, and it was a small price to pay for free higher education.

Because she could win this. Felicity knew it in her bones. Her IQ blew away everyone who was left, _and_ she was more motivated than any of them.

She made that much clear during last week’s semifinals when, friend or not, she unapologetically crushed Ray. And that was all while she’d been preoccupied trying to compartmentalize away Oliver’s video. The producers were pissed about the point margin, wanting to make it seem like an actual competition, but Felicity wasn’t going to dumb herself down for anyone or anything.

Only the finale separated her from a full scholarship to MIT.

 

* * *

 

Felicity spent the morning bracing herself. The network had not only flown in everyone’s families but also sent camera crews out to their high schools so that they could cut to live reaction shots of the viewing parties. She just prayed she wouldn’t be too embarrassed by Donna’s reaction to seeing “her baby” for the first time in months, which was bound to be over-the-top, and by Starling City High’s viewing party, which was bound to consist of her four friends and one teacher and maybe Thea if Oliver snuck her out of the house.

 

* * *

 

Oliver could feel Donna’s nerves rubbing off on him. When she had asked him to go with her to the live finale in LA, he agreed immediately. The network hadn’t minded shelling out for another ticket and hotel room, not after the way his message to Felicity had blown up on social media. But even if they had refused, he would have happily paid his own way to see Felicity for the first time in nearly three months.

Thea had begged to come along, but their parents refused to let her miss any school so close to the end of the year. They knew better than to try to stop him from going, though.

So now he sat with the rest of the audience while Donna and the other families were backstage with the contestants. The floor manager hadn’t let him go back there, stating that the session was for _family_ only. Oliver rolled his eyes a little, because they wouldn’t have footed his bill if they intended on keeping him hidden. He figured they were holding him back to surprise Felicity and try to throw her off her game. Not that she could be thrown off her game.

Eventually Donna came out to her seat next to his, still wiping at the tears under her eyes. “I didn’t say a word,” she promised with a wide smile. “Felicity’s going to be so happy to see you here.”

Oliver managed a tight smile in response. He hoped so. The behind-the-scenes clip released during the week featured a serious Felicity, isolated and keeping her distance from the other three contestants. The editing implied that she missed Ray, intercutting shots of them doing schoolwork and research together with shots of her doing the same activities but alone. Then, at the end, they showed Felicity looking contemplative side-by-side with a muted version of his video message.

His palms started to sweat as Oliver prayed that this would all work out.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Wells prompted them to wave to their families as spotlights illuminated areas of the audience. Felicity easily found Donna, would have even without the assistant who told her to look towards the right, and genuinely smiled and waved. The more than two months away with limited communication had actually, kind of, made her miss her mom, in all her ridiculous glory.

The spotlight was glinting off Donna’s bright everything—hair, clothes, jewelry—but she squinted against it to peer at the seat next to her mom’s. The chasm between illuminated and dark was surprisingly stark. Before, she never had a reason to notice how precise the studio lighting was. This time, though, there was a familiarly shaped person in the boundary of the spotlight, but that was impossible. It had to be a trick of the light.

All of a sudden, Donna stopped clapping and rested a hand on her neighbor’s shoulder. Despite how touchy-feely her mom was, she wouldn’t be so casual with a stranger or someone she’d just been sitting next to for ten minutes. Was it really—

“ _Oliver?_ ” Felicity practically yelped at the same time Dr. Wells went to commercial and the lights cut out.

 

* * *

 

Her mic hadn’t been on so he didn’t actually hear Felicity say his name, but Oliver had spent a lot of time watching Felicity’s lips form his name. And she definitely had. Right before most of the lights cut out, and only a few bulbs along the stage floor were left on for the contestants to get backstage.

In just under two hours, Felicity will get what she came to this stupid competition for. But would he?

 

* * *

 

Somehow, Felicity found herself on stage for the announcement of the winner. It was the strangest feeling, but for the last two hours, she’d been on auto-pilot almost. She breezed through questions confidently, relying on her first instinct. They were never told if they answered correctly, but Professor Stein had nodded at her approvingly, almost smugly turning his nose up at the other professors. Felicity took that as a good sign.

Seeing Oliver— _maybe_ seeing Oliver—had flipped a switch in her brain. She wasn’t overthinking the questions, what Mr. Diggle called her greatest weakness, because she was more concerned with getting through them. There was a mystery in the audience, and the faster she finished the competition and beat the pants off everyone else, then the faster she could find out who was sitting next to her mom.

Unfortunately for her, the producers hadn’t shown their families again. Instead, the broadcast was padded with their highlight reels, clip packages of funny moments, live shots of everyone’s high schools (an impressive turnout for Starling even if most people were motivated by getting on TV for a few seconds), and interviews about how much winning would mean to them. The delay was making her irritable, and she nearly yelled at Brie for taking too long to answer a question, one that, in Felicity’s opinion, was a gimme.

On a logical level, she knew that answering questions quickly wasn’t going to make the competition end sooner. This wasn’t the academic decathlon. The finale was scheduled for two hours, and so two hours it would take with all the commercial breaks and manufactured suspense necessary.

Even now, Dr. Wells paused to breathe between every word until Felicity wanted to scream. She was in the middle of rolling her eyes, media training be damned, when she was harshly elbowed. Felicity glared daggers at Brie, not bothering to hold back the annoyed “What?” that was picked up by her mic pack.

Dr. Wells took it in stride. He smiled jovially at her then asked, again probably, for her to move to his other side so he could announce the winner. The other two contestants must have been revealed as fourth and third place while she hadn’t been paying attention. Well, that was a little embarrassing.

Felicity moved quickly, glad they hadn’t insisted on heels like in earlier seasons. Her Doc Martens skipped around Dr. Wells, and she remembered to smile again. At the cameras but also in Donna’s (and Oliver’s) direction. This was in the bag, no matter how long Dr. Wells dragged it out.

Sure enough, after an excruciating thirty seconds later—yes, she counted— Dr. Wells called her name. Felicity tried to look surprised but gave up and settled for the actually genuine emotions of relieved and excited and proud. Confetti rained down from above the stage and audience. Brie was shuffled off stage somewhere—second place still won more than a couple thousand dollars so she didn’t feel too bad for the other girl—and Professor Stein left his wingback chair to shake her hand in congratulations.

Only after that hoopla did she hear one particular excited shriek over the general applause. Instinct made her open her arms, and less than a second later Donna wrapped her up in an enthusiastic hug. “You did it, baby girl! I’m so proud of you!” For once, Felicity embraced her mom’s enthusiasm, jumping up and down with her until she was tapped on the shoulder.

“Oh,” Donna said quietly, her eyebrows lifting and her lips turning up in a soft, hopeful smile.

Huh?

Felicity spun on her heel to come face-to-chest with a sorely missed sight. Her eyes went up—and up because had he grown in the last few months?—until she made contact with the bright, smiling blue eyes of her best friend.

“Oliver! Frak, it really is you. I’ve been trying to figure it out for the last two hours.”

He grinned before opening his arms wide for a hug that she happily stepped into. “I wanted to surprise you. But two hours? Felicity! You should have been concentrating.”

Dismissively, she rolled her eyes and waved her hands. “Please. This was easy as pie. Not that pie is easy. I mean, you’ve seen me burn a premade pie crust. My point is, I wouldn’t have gone through this whole thing and left Mom and you if I wasn’t going to win. Of course, I was going to beat their pants off. Not literally, but you know. This was a cake walk. Why are all the sayings dessert-themed? Anyway, you know I hate mysteries and I thought I saw you but also spotlights and poor eyesight so I couldn’t tell if it was you _you_ or just my wishful thinking. In conclusion, I can’t believe you’re here!”

During her ramble—damn she had missed those, very carefully keeping them on lockdown for fear of them somehow being used against her—Oliver’s smile just kept growing wider until he was beaming at her.

“I love you.”

“What?” Felicity choked. Had he really said— No, of course not. Maybe too much confetti had the side effect of causing hallucinations. With all the roaming lights and flying bits of colorful paper and loud music, an epileptic seizure was probably technically possible.

“I love you, Felicity Smoak!”

Oliver’s exclamation was extra loud because someone had thoughtfully turned off the celebratory music right beforehand. In her mind, Felicity could hear a record needle scratch like there were actually movie sound effects in real life. Oliver, though, didn’t look the least bit regretful even as his ears pinked up.

“I’ve missed you so much while you’ve been gone. And for longest time, I couldn’t figure out why. Because Tommy’s my best friend, too, but I don’t miss him when he’s gone like I do with you. One day, it just hit me. I’m in love with you.”

Felicity gaped at him, for longer than she intended to, really. Eventually, Oliver reached a hand up and gently used one finger up to urge her mouth closed. “Is that— Is that okay? Because I don’t have to be if you don’t want me to be. I can turn it off, I think. There was this girl who—”

“Oliver Queen!” She tiptoed up to squish his mouth between her two hands. Still, she could make out his smirk in response to her annoyed glare. Clearly, he had been trying to provoke her out of her daze. “If you are just doing this for attention on television, I swear I will end you.”

He took her hands in his, pulling them down. Then he bent a little to look her in the eye. “I’m not. I swear I’m not joking. I mean every word.” Sighing, he straightened and looked up, probably trying to find the words to convince her.

Felicity was sure he would have kept going, elaborating on his sincerity, but she’d been waiting too long. She flung herself into his arms again—yep, he’d definitely gotten taller—and pressed her lips against his. The kiss was rushed and a little clumsy and a lot surprised but still perfectly imperfect.

“Good,” she smiled when they pulled back the slightest amount, “because I love you, too.”

Somewhere in the production control room, the director let out a victorious whoop.

 


End file.
